Trips and Places

All Poems, Environment/Mother Earth, For Children, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Spring Lake 2024, Trips and Places

Dunes in Spring Lake

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How many people stop to look at dunes?

Before crossing the boardwalk to the beach in Spring Lake?

It’s tempting to run past.

Set feet on sand.

Cool off in steady surf.

But, if you pause, the fragrance of untamed roses intoxicates.

Elegant blooming sweet peas stretch.

Into hillsides of pink poetry.

Blowing this way, that.

Attracting queen bumble bees.

Hosta lilies sway in unexpected pockets.

How did they find their way there?

Errant seeds settling in a tangled meadow?

Lush grasses, knotweed, tall curled red dock buffeting about.

All adding perspective, depth, dimension.

Sharp contrast to manicured gardens around houses.

Cared for by professionals for landscaping perfection.

No, here on dunes, it’s natural.

Plants growing untamed, wild.

A sight to soften senses.

Meet Mother Nature’s child.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 18, 2024

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Pleasure, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Shopper

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I am not a shopper.

Never rejoicing in scanning racks.

Full of colorful jackets, skirts, dresses.

Seeking the perfect size, price point.

Especially now when service in most stores, diminished.

Unlike my childhood days at the Blum Store.

When attendants hovered about to help.

But, my daughter, like her grandmother, loves the sport.

Knowing well her style, her colors, what suits her.

Going at it like a hunt.

Checking tags, touching materials.

Gathering her prey to try on.

In tiny mirrored dressing rooms.

I like watching her movements.

Lithe, limber, full of energy.

Animating her, making eyes wider, smile broader.

As she zeroes in on her mark.

So, when I’m with her, I, too, delight.

Wake up from languidness.

Catch her zest, resilience,

joy in nailing the prize.

Deftly pull out my credit card

to join her exercise!

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 17, 2024

All Poems, For Children, Natural Beauty, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trees, Trips and Places

Lindens in Spring Lake

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Once you smell a flowering linden tree, you always know it.

It becomes part of your repertoire of aromas.

Like lilacs or roses.

But, I only came to meet lindens later in life.

After moving to Elkins Park.

Known for the tall, shade trees.

Blossoming yellow in June.

Diffusing scents of citrus, honey.

Like a thurible spreading incense in a cathedral.

Swinging sweetness, perfume.

So, I was enchanted on Passaic Avenue in Spring Lake.

Between the town and the fire station.

When the now familiar floral flurry filled my nostrils.

Seven lindens in full bloom.

Boughs weighed down with bouquets and bees.

Redolent with pleasing fragrance.

Sanctifying passage.

I, paying tribute to florescence.

Its aromatic language.

Lynn Benjamin

June 17, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Beaches, Family, Food, Humor, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Breakfast in Spring Lake

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Roseanne determined she had to catch a mid-afternoon train.

To get back to Manhattan.

On time to meet her children.

So, I suggested a light breakfast, late lunch.

For our Father’s Day celebration.

First going for savory croissants.

Which the bakery was out of.

Substituting an Irish soda bread.

Packed with plump dark raisins.

Grabbing drinks, finding a shady spot to picnic.

Each pulling off corners of the bread.

Savoring it between swigs of coffee.

This would be even better with jam, said Roseanne.

Then after another bite or two, or butter.

Well, I countered, this way it’s au naturel. You taste the bread exactly the way it is.

Like seeing a woman without make-up, coif.

Without latest fashion design.

Standing before you just how she is,

original state, divine.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 16, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Humor, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Pitch Dark

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It was pitch dark.

As Roseanne and I walked along the park in Spring Lake.

Searching for the last ice cream shop still open.

She arrived late by train from Manhattan.

The only adult child able to join us for our trifecta celebration.

Birthday, Anniversary, Father’s Day.

So, our dinner began later, too.

Long and leisurely.

Also known as slow service.

Sitting outside as the sun set after nine.

This town, quiet, sedate.

Even on Saturday nights, places shutting down early.

Bob urged Roseanne and me to set out.

He, staying behind to pay the bill.

Neither of us, sure where the dessert place was.

We marched, hoping in the right direction.

It was hard to follow the google map app directions.

Who can read street signs without light?

Let alone see the sidewalk ahead.

Street lamps, either extinguished or dim.

Call Dad, Roseanne suggested.

I resisted saying we’d either find it or not.

Thinking we wouldn’t make it before closing.

But, he’ll tell us if we’re close or not, she insisted.

Again, I demurred.

Okay, she shrugged, he’ll soon be calling you.

Then she mimicked his voice, I’m here. Where are you?

Only ten steps later, the phone dinged.

I’m here at the shop. Where are you? Bob asked.

Then he reassured us we were on the right path.

I turned to Roseanne, how did you know he’d call?

She laughed like Brer Rabbit at the briar patch.

You two are a comedy routine.

She knows us like a book.

Fifty years observing us

with scrutinizing look!

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 15, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Hope, Natural Beauty, Pennypack Park, Plants, Sounds

Noises

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Where do you go?

When noises overwhelm?

Leaf blowers roar?

Wood-chippers whir?

Asphalt pavers rumble?

Newscasters argue?

Well, not far away is a quiet walkway.

Along Pennypack Creek.

Path with emerald canopy.

Tempting floral surprises.

Irises, fleabanes, buttercup figs, violet dames.

Riotous bouquets adorning each side.

Roses, empress blooms, honeysuckles.

Fragrance diffusers.

Geese idly sitting, watching passersby.

Gray catbirds flitting about.

Caterpillars inching along.

Here’s a place you can move.

March legs, swing arms.

Listen to the pat pad of your footfalls.

Watch blossoms whirl down.

Bathe in nature’s perfumes,

cleanse your lungs, your soul.

Breath sweetened by breezes.

Renewed, intact, whole.

Lynn Benjamin

May 16, 2024

All Poems, Politics, Stories, Wellfleet

Following Politics

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Following politics drains me.

Maybe more in an election year.

When one candidate spends weeks in court.

Insisting he didn’t interfere with an election.

Taking credit for the overthrow of Dobbs.

Robbing women of fifty years of rights.

I just want to unplug.

Take a break.

But today, not possible.

Politics unbidden comes to me.

To my neighborhood.

After a week of logistic preparation.

Secret service scoping out the venue.

Cordoning off the area.

Closing the gymnasium at Salus.

Where I take classes.

Building tents, a stage.

Providing an enormous police presence.

Armored car, sharp shooter on a roof.

To protect the Vice President, her entourage.

Excitement mounts, palpable.

Till Kamala Harris arrives.

To discuss healthcare for women.

Loss of reproductive rights.

To an audience of like-minded constituents.

I’m not invited to hear the speech.

But, it’s easy to locate on line.

Listening, I agree with her.

Wishing undecided voters would tune in, heed.

Though the message well-articulated,

beliefs against women die hard.

So I suppose a talk like this

keeps the faithful on gender guard.

Lynn Benjamin

May 10, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Family, Grandchildren, Natural Beauty, Trips and Places, Water Mill

The World Roils

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The world roils and boils.

War, unrest, protests.

Political hypocrisy.

While we find solace in Water Mill.

With four grandchildren.

Three sisters and a cousin.

Bouncing on mats.

Squatting, flipping.

Hiking trails to a beach, a pond.

Listening to sounds of bayside waves.

Rippling onto the shore.

Ducks paddling in water, flapping wings.

To their own voices, animated, spirited.

Inventing game after game.

In a house where screens, restricted.

Pushing them to play.

Like I did as a child.

To invent, create, hear each other speak.

Honor ideas, words.

Eagles, blackbirds, swans.

Dandelions, daisies.

Familial bonds.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Natural Beauty, Trips and Places, Water Mill

Early April Morning in Water Mill

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This early April morning in Water Mill, different.

From where I live.

A bit colder, nippier.

About a week behind.

Frost blanketing lawns.

Dandelions, daisies struggling to wake up.

Daffodils, grape hyacinths, shivering.

Purple dead nettles keeping warm in tight groups.

Garlic mustard blooms lightening hillsides.

Rye fields, pine nurseries stretching to the horizon.

While red tipped blackbirds, finches warble at dawn.

From tall silent trees.

Bare branches just beginning to bud.

Landscape green and still.

Song birds communicating.

No matter morning chill.

Peaceful contemplating.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Holidays, Passover, Stories, Trips and Places, Water Mill

Epic Journey

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It was an epic journey.

From Elkins Park to the Hamptons.

Bob, Elias and I.

Skirting around Manhattan.

From Staten Island across the Verrazano Bridge.

Through Brooklyn, Queens.

Finally, to Long Island.

Pronounced long by the youngest passenger.

Listening to Harry Potter.

Prisoner of Azkaban.

Stopping to refuel our EV.

Grab a salad for Elias.

No bread or pretzels.

For it was midway through Pesach.

But the reward great upon arrival.

Three girl princesses all in a row

waiting with sweet embrace.

Two ballerinas and a toddler,

lithe-bodied, full of grace.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April  30, 2024